07.30.04
Posted in culture at 8:22 pm by
Today was officially my last day on the job! Wooo hooo, no more khakis for a long, long time. More importantly it means that I’ll be leaving on vacation tomorrow morning, early. I love you, my readers, and I love blogging, but not enough to get up in time to have a blog entry out AND make it to the airport by 5:00 AM. So, all you folks who’ve been kind enough in the last little bit to make a badchristian blog a regular daily read will get a little reprieve from the onslaught of a Christian “pink-o commie.” Anyway, use this week as a little voyage of self-discovery to find out if you either miss my posts, or rather find your life more complete without them. :>>
Anyhow, I’ll be spending the next week in the Dominican Republic at an all inclusive resort on the southern coast near the hamlet of Boca Chica. It’s called the Hamaca Coral hotel. Yes friends, you heard me correctly. All-inclusive. That’s spanish for “all the beer one’s heart desires.”
Perhaps I’ll have some great stories upon my return…oh, who am I kidding, I’m sure I’ll have some great stories upon my return. Y’all have a great week. I’ll see you when I return.
Adios!
Permalink
Posted in faith, culture, philosophy at 12:00 am by
I’ve been thinking about unleashing a barn burner of a blog entry about the Democratic National Convention, or how much I would love to see Barak Obama / John Edwards combination ticket in 2012. Like my friend Zac, or Hugo. But the truth is all I can think about is my neighbor Ralph. Ralph is at least 85 years old. I don’t really think he’s all that well. Mentally, at least. Physically, though, the guy seems fine. Or, seemed fine. I mean for crying out loud the dude was almost ninety and was out watering flowers–albeit slowly–just a few days ago. The thing is Ralph will never water his flowers again, because Ralph died last night.
I might pause here to say that Ralph and I weren’t really what you might call buddies. I mean he had his house and I had mine. We shared two broken conversations in our life. One was about a rabbit that lived under the deck at my house. At first I thought there was a problem with the rabbit getting into his garden, but since I’ve come to understand that Ralph just loved nature. Ralph didn’t tell me this–but I could tell. One doesn’t spend time outside on an easily 90 degree muggy Michigan afternoon in one’s garden, unless one really loves that garden. It gave Ralph great joy to see that rabbit and he wanted me to experience that joy as well. Also, each time Ralph slowly shuffled by our house and caught a glimpse of our cats he could just stare in wonder. Some folks go out into nature. Ralph gave life to the world around him by participating in nature.
The other conversation that I shared with Ralph was the day that he was trying to fix his door. You see, the night before Ralph’s son–who I’ve since been told is both mentally deranged and completely estranged from his family–called Ralph’s nephew and told him that he had shot ole’ Ralph in the head and that he was dead in the kitchen. Naturally, Ralph’s nephew called 911. As you can imagine, the Grand Rapids Police and Fire departments sprang into action, closing off the road that we both live on entirely–a fairly major thoroughfare. It turns out that Ralph’s son hadn’t in fact, shot Ralph. Ralph was quite fine but, with his hearing aides out, couldn’t hear the knocking of his rescuers at the door. Ralph didn’t realize that they were there until after they broke out the battering ram on his door. You can imagine my excitment sitting on my front porch while I watched the whole thing unfold–only 20 feet away. A somewhat dazed and confused Ralph emerged from his now tattered front door a few minutes later. This sets the stage for our next conversation. The next day I saw Ralph out by himself trying to fix his door. (And, just so you know, it would seem that the police department doesn’t feel compelled to offer one any assistance in replacing the doors that they use their battering rams on.) Anyway, I went to go see if Ralph could use a hand getting his door back on the hinges. This time our conversation was more broken. It wasn’t really a conversation at all. Ralph mumbled something about closing the screen door in a thick Dutch accent–I obliged. Soon, Ralph’s nephew came over to help Ralph with the door, and our conversation ended. I think that this might have been the beginning of the end for Ralph. That was several months ago.
I don’t think that Ralph was sad to go. Perhaps he loved nature and life, but I think that Ralph didn’t feel very at home here anymore. More and more often his manner seemed distant, almost like he was a foreigner living in not just a foreign land–it actually looked as if Ralph was new to the planet, not just the country. I think it was because he was lonely. Ralph’s wife passed away 9 years ago. Sometimes at night you could see Ralph through one of his windows. He looked as if he was reading something except he wasn’t holding anything. He always sat near what appeared to be an old picture of he and his wife. One night his lamp was placed just right so I could see the translucent glow of two lovers in their golden years, the man looking vaguely like my neighbor.
Now I don’t know for sure, but, I feel pretty sure that Ralph longed to go home. Not the home that he refused to sell–his earthly home. But Ralph needed outta’ here in the worst way. And, he waited patiently for that day. Each day he was given here he minded his earthly home, raising beautiful flowers and tending a vegetable garden. And when he was through for the day, Ralph retired to his chair. Ralph dreamed.
I read a great piece today by Matthew Sturges. It deals with death and life. An interesting pair, death and life. We often think of the two as complete opposites. Ralph wanted both at the same time, though. For him, the two had underwent some strange change, though. See, for Ralph, living was in a sense death, separation, being apart from that which he so dearly cherished. And in that same sense, death was in a sense living–a release from the death that he lived, day in and day out. But what I respect the most about Ralph: he never gave up. Ralph never stopped enjoying the things of nature around him, in the midst of sorrow, depression, confusion, and alienation.
I don’t know if Ralph was a religious man, but from what I could see, and in my mind’s eye, I’ve created a faithful Ralph. A Ralph that knew and loved truth, nature, and life.
This is his anthem:
This is my father’s world,
And to my listning ears,
All nature sings,
and round me rings
The music of the spheres.
This is my father’s world!
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees,
of skies and seas,
His hand the wonders wrought.
This is my father’s world,
The birds their carols raise,
The morning light,
the lily white,
Declare their makers praise.
This is my father’s world!
He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass
I hear Him pass,
He speaks to me ev’rywhere.
This is my father’s world,
O let me ne’er forget,
That ‘tho the wrong
seems oft’ so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my father’s world!
The battle is not done;
Jesus who died,
shall be satisfied,
And earth and heav’n be one.
In Memory of Ralph Bolt
? - 2004
May he find a quiet garden with plenty of wildlife.
And, of course, somewhere in that garden under a shady oak, may he find a bench just big enough for two.
Permalink
07.29.04
Posted in faith at 9:42 am by
If you’ve been reading lately, you probably know that I’m not a big Rick Warren–author of a Purpose Driven Life–fan. I’ve been thinking about one thing in particular that he said in his last video that I’ve been ruminating upon for the past several months now.
[Please, forgive me for this not being a direct quote but rather a paraphrase. The ideas are quite intact though the words may not be.]
To set the scene a bit Rick was sharing about evangelism and that it wasn’t enough to share the truth of the gospel through living a life that glorified God.
How arrogant for someone to say, “Look, my life is so good that I don’t even need to tell others about the gospel.” We need to share the gospel because otherwise people won’t come to Christ. Outward vocal evangelism is your duty as a Christian.
Like I said, those aren’t Rick’s exact words, but they’re close. I have several problems with this mindset. I do believe that I’ll expound.
The problem, or one of the problems, with this line of reasoning is that it’s logic is inherently flawed. For example: if it is arrogant of me to think that my life is so attractive as to draw people to Christ, then how is it less arrogant for me to think that my verbal reason is so attractive as to draw people to Christ. It’s not less arrogant at all, the truth is it’s flagrantly more arrogant, and it’s one of the biggest reasons that people are turned off from the Church.
Many Christians subscribe to this evangelistic technique. Tell everyone you can get your hands on about this truth that you have. Honestly, I believe that it’s motivated out of love and the desire for more people to know Christ. The problem is, that a message–any message–can have one intention going out, but another very real interpretation on the end of the hearer. (Sorry, this is getting a little “Communications-grad-student-ish” here.) The hearer of this message not only has knowlege of the spoken message, but any number of connotations that go along with that message. For example, connotations that go along with Christians–like ‘em or not–are: Republican, right-wing, Televangelists, hypocrites, abortion-clinic-bombers, ignorant of the world around them, pro-life, closed-minded, and arrogant.
Now, any Christian knows that not all of these things accurately describe most Christians. (Though, some do.) The problem is that the Christians who those stereotypes do describe live loudly. Perhaps if we would forsake those stereotypes and live “right” loudly, different stereotypes would come to mind.
This brings me back to Rick Warren and his gospel of evangelism. (Which he also rightly points out is about sharing the good-news.) I would argue that in the States today, it is nearly impossible to share the good-news verbally with someone that you don’t know well. And, even with those that you do it can be difficult. I say this because communicating the “good-news” is more than just the message that goes out of my mouth. Communicating the “good-news” is about the message that’s received. The message that’s received is inherently shaped by cultural norms, stereotypes, history, the actual words, etc. Once our actual words make it through a tangle of history, heuristics, and stereotypes it often hardly resembles “good-news” at all. It sounds to many like an offer to be a member of a group of hypocrites, liars, cheaters, and ignorants. If I were offered the opportunity…I think I’d take a pass.
Perhaps once the Church gets its shit together, and we start living right and loudly rather than speaking loudly without love–and sounding like a clanging gong, there will be a day that I feel like I, too, can take to the streets and proclaim the good-news to passers-by. Oh, for the day that the Church really cares for the poor, or that truly loves the fringes. That day appears oppressively far off to me.
[For more on this line of reasoning check this out.]
Another issue that concerns me about the “arrogance of simply thinking of my life as a witness” concept. Rick is assuming that I mean that my life is perfect. Far from it. Anybody who looks sees that, but people don’t expect a perfect life. What they see that is different, I believe, is a life transformed by grace and joy. When people look at my life, it’s not my good works that cause them to hear the good-news (though, hopefully they see those works as growing out of the grace and joy I’ve been freely given.) They hear the good-news because they see what God has done to me.
The Church needs to get itself in order so that it can effectively minister to the world, priorities need to be reshaped…then maybe one day, I’ll feel comfortable verbally sharing the good-news to passers by and mere aquaintances. Until then, I’m going to stick to living out justice. I’ll let God do the work of salvation. I’m pretty lousy at ’saving’ people anyhow.
Permalink
07.28.04
Posted in culture at 9:02 am by
Brittany Spears the once proud virgin has, it seems, had a slight change of heart about waiting for marriage to lose her virginity. Perhaps it’s hearsay, but this is a quote from a person described as one of Brittany’s friends:
One close friend says, “Britney says sex with Kevin is ten times better than with her ex-lover, JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE. They’re constantly in bed together in one long sex marathon.”
Sounds to me like the pop diva has been practicing what she preaches, finally. Now, I’m not claiming that her message or practice is what I would advise for living a quality life, but at least now the two are consistent.
Brittany Spears, at least her public image, is sex. Her songs are either about sex or are sexually charged; the public image of her private life oozes sex; sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. Now, I admit that the real private life of Brittany Spears–what little there is–is unknown; however, it would seem if the public image of that private life is even remotely correct, the great Athena of American teenage pop culture has taken sanctuary in her own chapel of sex.
This frightens me. It’s one thing to be convinced of lies that others tell. But, to have done such a good job in portraying those lies, that you are even persuaded of them yourself. That’s amazing.
I know, you’re thinking, “Oh cool it Brandon, what’d you do, jump on the fundy wagon?” Brittany, stupid yes, overmarketed yes, but a liar? I think so. Brittany markets hyper sexualization. The view of sex without attachment or comittment as leading to any sense of fulfillment–is in two words: fucking stupid. It’s a lie.
And now she believes it. What’s worse, it seems that she used to know the truth. Remember when she was proclaiming that she’d save her virginity for marriage–or at least until someone really loved her. Screw that, Brittany, at least save it for comittment–married or not, you’ll be happier.
Permalink
07.27.04
Posted in faith, philosophy at 5:42 pm by
I’m leaving my job soon. I work in a college admissions office for the next few days, my last day is Friday. My co-workers have been quite supportive and have induced more than a tear or two over my leaving. But all told it’s time to move on–now to grad school and beyond. I’m exited to undertake this new endeavor. (And, hopefully, it’ll afford me a bit more time to write, both academically and at this blog.)
At my job now, I play basketball on Tuesdays and Thursdays with a group of people–mostly men–who are faculty and staff at the college. We spend an hour together two days a week, but it’s an action packed hour. I hadn’t really expected that these guys would do much more than bid me farewell–and maybe a tap on the ass for luck. But when I mentioned that this would be my last day on the court, they did something I didn’t really expect.
Everyone gathered around me, sweaty from a day of b-ball in the fieldhouse, and they proceeded to lay their hands on me and have a time of prayer. Normally, not one for laying on of hands and other more charismatic worship type activities, I didn’t really expect that this would have the impact on me it did. I didn’t break down in tears, or fall to my knees, but I did have a premonition.
You know how it is when you’re doing something that you just KNOW you’ll remember for the rest of your life. That was the feeling. One of those magical moments that though a bit mundane–really only a prayer–really ministered to me. And, it got me thinking.
All of those moments that I just know I’ll remember are surrounded by an overwhelming number that I know I’ll forget. I’m not sure that that’s how we’re supposed to live our lives. Now I don’t think that life is intended to be one big long string of magical moments that never ends, but I think there are two kinds of people. Regrettably, more of one kind, I fear, than the other.
The first kind, the kind that I would surmise is unfortunately more common than the next, is the kind of person that experiences those magical moments but they don’t seek the moments. They just sit idly by and let life wash over them, hoping against hope that some nugget of goodness will find its way to them. Eventually, those nuggets of gold come, but one never knows how many bits of life one has narrowly missed by inaction.
The other kind of person, seeks bits of life, seeks memorable moments, they rise up to meet life rather than the other way around. One of the best known of these folks was Henry David Thoreau. Oft quoted is Thoreau, yet, I think, little understood. In the locker room today, I think I began to understand the truth Thoreau lived.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately , to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
Permalink
Posted in faith, culture at 12:10 am by
As promised, I’m coming back to my little soapbox. Why? Because as I re-read what I’ve just written I can’t escape the sinking feeling that I haven’t really done my frustration justice, I’m still pissed off. Or, perhaps it’s because as I continue to drink beers tonight, they’re clouding my temperance. To hell with it, I’m grabbing another Heineken and ripping into the modern church.
Okay, now that my mind is becoming sufficiently “limber” we can continue. Normally, I’d try to come up with some sort of topic with redeeming value, and perhaps with this one I’ll eventually swing around to some sort of value beyond the expression of my own sick views, but, for now, that’s where I’m starting.
I’m still recovering from my 40 days of purpose. Actually, it was more like 3 and a half days of purpose and 36 days of guilt over not reading that damn book. I got over the guilt pretty fast though. Is it just me or is 40 days of purpose the new Bible? I mean, it seems like every church has (or has had) a 40 days of purpose banner on its sign at some point in the past two years. Far be it from my Calvinist self to say that Rick Warren is without merit, but that book almost made me gag. The thing that really got me was when the pastor decided to preach in a fucking “got purpose?” t-shirt. Perhaps if the Church (big C) spent half of the money it did on the licensing for that damn 40 day escapade, there’d probably be quite a few less people starving, or dying of aids, or freezing to death in our very own fucking neighborhoods.
Beyond all of that, what concerns me the most about 40 days of purpose is the way the contemporary church seems to have elevated the words of rick warren to scripture. Our small group discussions seemed to reflect that. We watched the video and then answered some fabricated questions from the study guide, designed to bring us to a predetermined answer. Of course, our small group had a resident asshole–me–who insisted on asking questions that challenged the views presented us. Of course, since the Church never told anybody to think critically about 40 days of purpose, no one felt compelled to so do. We treated the video like we were watching a video of a fat Jesus Christ himself wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt and telling all of us what our respective purposes are…all via VHS. Ick.
Particularly annoying to me was the way the book portrayed the need to witness in a particular way. The concept that I need to go out and “Save another one for Jesus.” Is to me patently offensive. Never, have I, nor will I ever “save” anyone. God does that. Of course, I’m the “bad christian” when I bring my views on evangelism up–even though I find them far more Biblical–and historical for that matter.
It’s not really about me being right, though. It’s more about there being a forum to be able to discuss. 40 days of purpose–probably the most popular tool in the recent American Evangelical Church has absolutely no intention of encouraging those who go through the study to engage in intellectual discourse about the book.
I’m not about to say that 40 days of purpose is without its merits and I don’t wish to take away from those. I would only hope for a bit more from the Church…like flexing their brain muscle a bit while they read it.
Permalink
07.26.04
Posted in faith at 6:22 pm by
I was at a wedding this past Saturday–thus the lack of posts. It was my first ever “Catholic wedding.” It wasn’t nearly as long as fabled. No mass. No communion. Which is good I expect. But I was really struck while I was there. I guess I was struck by the farmiliarity of it all. Now, I’m not catholic, never have been, and likely, never will be, but there was something about the worship in this service that really struck a chord with me. I felt at home there. Almost as if I had been raised Catholic.
Perhaps, I should offer a bit of self-disclosure about my upbringing. I was raised–and continue to be–protestant. Son of a preacher-man, and a Calvinist at that. I graduated from and Calvin College. (A Christian college rooted in the reformed tradition started by–you guessed it–John Calvin…though the college’s philosophy was deeply shaped by Abraham Kuyper, read this for more info on those philosophies.) I never really had many people in my life who were willing to step out on a limb and claim that Catholocism and Christianity were one and the same, albeit different expressions, faith. I figured that out on my own, slowly.
I was under the impression, though, that the Catholic Church and my very protestant one really wanted very little to do with another…which is of course true. However, after experiencing my first Catholic wedding, I’m not sure why. The people that I saw at that ceremony expressed beautiful sentiments of a heartfelt faith. And we did it together–as a unit. More than I can say for myself and much of the rest of our church on a typical Sunday morning. Rather, I drag my ass to church so that I can mumble a few words of a tune in which I tell God how “I could sing of his love forever.” Or whatever. The more emotional I look (eg. hands raised, eyes closed, a little strained look on my face, standing up when the “spirit leads”) the better christian I must be. I stand in the back row and mumble. Distracted by the almost cellophane wrappedness of the commercial worship. (Yes, I meant commercial rather than corporate.)
Maybe I just need to find another church. Maybe EVERYBODY ELSE is having a meaningful connection with those around them and with God. I’m not sure why they would…it seems like our worship consists of songs that are aesthetically pleasing to ourselves rather than aesthetically pleasing to God. Not that the two are mutually exclusive–but when we put our need to “like worship music” more than our need for God to like our worship, we step onto a fragile limb.
I’m not sure if there was any one thing that I can put my finger on that transformed my Catholic worship experience. I liked the formality of approaching God. I liked hearing from his word (something that’s been all too absent from contemporary American worship for years now.) Maybe it was the responsive readings. Perhaps it was the fact that since we were all doing the same thing in worship, we were doing it together. Nothing particularly Catholic about that I guess, it was just meaningful.
I’m not sure what the fear of the contemporary movement is. It may be that there is a desire to stay away from those things we don’t understand…such as the traditions of, well, “traditional” worship. But, those traditions are there for a reason. In many cases those traditions are beautiful acts which bring the people of God together binding them under the word of God. Without that true community cannot be experienced.
That’s not to say that contemporary worship is bad. It’s just that it can’t be done on a wing and a prayer (though often even a wing and a prayer would be an improvement.) We need to plumb the depths of tradition and ressurect the intent of that tradition–then preserve that intent. We are on the verge of losing an important generation–so grab the next octiginarian you find and ask them to teach you about the traditions of the Church, why they’re there, why they’re so important.
As for the Catholic church, I must refrain from comment. I’m simply underqualified to offer suggestions for improvement–namely, since I’m not a Catholic. However, I can speak to some protestant churches. Traditional ones in particular. It’s vital that you share your knowlege with us. Because we don’t understand your traditions and your values, we’ve formed our own megachurches and other contemporary worship centres. We no longer understand the value of tradition, you’ve failed to impart the reason that your traditions are so vital to the way of the church. Perhaps, it’s because we’ve failed to listen. Nonetheless, we need you and you need us.
Probably more on this later…
Permalink
Posted in politics, culture at 8:51 am by
Okay, so the terror alert system. I guess I don’t really get it. I’ll admit when all those pretty lights first came out I thought, “Hmm…good idea, keeping the American public aware of the terror threat.” But now I’m not so sure.
At the very bottom of this USCIS page there is a constant reminder of what the terror risk is. I guess my question is, what good does this little terror alert thinger do? I mean, really all it does is tell me how scared I should be on any given day. Of course I’m told not to alter my regularly scheduled activities–just to be scared while doing them?!? Pardon me, but what the hell kind of life is that? It just causes me to think that the terrorists have won. I mean, that’s the goal, right? The destruction of liberty and replacing it with fear.
Our country is riddled with enough fear. We don’t need a terror alert graphic to tell us how scared to be on any given day, on any given trip to the mall. But, just in case you’d like to live a life riddled with the fear of crashing planes, trains, or anthrax attacks–here’s the terror alert status.
P.S. If anyone has some examples of good uses of the above terror alert status bar…please do share in the comments section.
Permalink
07.23.04
Posted in politics, culture at 9:07 am by
I’ve been thinking a bit about defense. Not “our” defense in particular, just the word really. Okay, I am thinking about our defense in particular. But, I’m thinking about it in a sort of evolutionary sense. Defense used to mean that as a country we defended ourselves when we were attacked. Clearly, this is no longer the case, as the term pre-emptive attack entered my working vocabulary this past year.
I’m not a radical pacifist, but it would seem to make economic sense to me that our current president become better at exhausting each and every option prior to going out and making war on a country and killing civilians with one of the best reasons given being that “Saddam Hussein is a bad man…he tried to kill my Dad.” Perhaps if we explored more options prior to lobbing a few tomahawks into Baghdad our current President’s discretionary budget alottment for defense wouldn’t be over 50 percent of that discretionary budget–over 400 billion dollars this year–not including funding for homeland security.
Really, this last year and a half or so the increase in defense budget spending hasn’t been on defense at all. Nobody attacked us. Whatever happened to the days where we were slow to act but when we did we were deliberate and, well, wise. Like an old man who has just enough energy to accomplish his goals, so slowly, deliberately, and with wisdom he does just that. Where have those days gone?
Now days, we’re in a hurry, every where we go, as far as defense goes. We go and liberate the world from their oppressive cultures and free them from the drudgery and hell that is being “unAmerican”. Our defense, now, spends much on spreading the Gospel of America to the rest of the heathen world. Hopefully converting each and every soul by our evangelical defense department.
To me, America seems like a “know-it-all” new kid on the block. Around for only a few hundred years, got all the answers, and want to change everybody’s opinions. One day though, something will happen. America will have some catestrophic failure. The stock market will crash again, or we won’t be able to pay off the interest on our debt. It’s really only a matter of time.
Permalink
07.22.04
Posted in education at 12:01 am by
Where we left our largely undereducated and underprepared college students yesterday was with a mostly meaningless bachelor’s degree. So, where are these completely unprepared graduates to go? Graduate school.
Of course the above is an oversimplification. Graduate education in the states today has quite a number of pitfalls, underprepared students are merely one of a cornucopia of reasons that graduate education is quickly heading to hell in a handbasket.
Underprepared graduate students, though, are a problem for the same reason that underprepared undergraduates are a problem. Their expectations of what they should be able to accomplish has been largely shaped by their undergraduate education–in which their professors lived up to their own woefully sub-par expectations.
Another part of the entitlement to a graduate degree (particularly the Master’s) is that often these degrees are required by one’s employer. For example in the state of Michigan, teachers are required in many school districts to make satisfactory progress toward a Masters degree and attain that degree within a reasonable amount of time. For many teachers this is a fair expectation. They’re the kind of people that thrive on discovery, on not just becoming better teachers–but shaping the discipline of education for educators everywhere. However, there’s another kind of teacher.
This kind of teacher may be one of the best teachers ever known. It’s just that they’re not cut out of the “grad school cloth.” I must stress that these may well be some of the best teachers around–being right for grad school really isn’t a good judge of one’s success as an educator. But when these teachers get to school they feel entitled to be able to receive a degree from the institution they’ve chosen.
For whatever reason, and the degredation of undergraduate and graduate education seems plausible, it is no longer really acceptable to have “just a bachelor’s degree.” Once upon a time, your bachelor’s degree was your passport to the working world. It opened up jobs at most every rung of the ladder. This is simply no longer true.
Thus far, at least in most cases, the Ph.D. has remained the sacred cow of academia. But if the current trend continues, there’s no telling how long the highest degree currently attainable in our higher educational system becomes merely another speed bump in the highway of academia.
Why the concern? I mean in all honesty, who cares. Well, obviously I do, or I wouldn’t be writing, and here’s why. For those of us who truly care about academia, this influx of under prepared graduates cloud the air with half assed theories, under supported data, poorly designed experiments, and these same people will eventually go on to be the next generation of college professors. My concern is that if this cancer goes unchecked it could infect our society for years to come.
What do we do? I think we need to start at the beginning. Let’s start teaching elementary students the truth…that they can be whatever they want. Whether a carpenter, a mortician, or a firewoman, there’s no greater profession to be involved in. Let’s help them to learn the things that they need to be successful middle and high school students. In middle and high school students need to learn to love to learn…and regardless of where they go from that our society–above all–must learn to respect all kinds of people equally, regardless of whether they shower before or after work.
Permalink
« Previous entries ·
